My Life as a Rookie
by Glinting Chrome
Summary: Set before the organization of STARS, Albert Wesker is a young microbiologist forced to undertake police training...


Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil. Do not own RPD. Wanted to, but that bomb destroyed my dreams. And lastly, do not own Will Smith.

Note: Wesker may be a bit OOC... hold your horses, I have a reason. This story is supposed to take place before the organization of STARS, meaning, Wesker is maybe in his mid twenties or whatever, and is gaining experience by being a rookie trooper in Raccoon City _before_ being trained properly. Keep in mind that he is still a young man in this story, capable of screwing up his job. Hope you enjoy this... rather pointless story. And don't you dare forget the double R!

* * *

The heat of the hot sun beat down on twisted wreck and mangled remains, frying what has already been fried.  
Glinting metal, sparkling glass, spilled blood.   
Two RPD cars rolled to a stop at the accident site and four troopers got out of their cars at the exact same moment.  
They stood in a line and exchanged glances with each other.  
"Holy..." the first trooper said, eyes surveying the wreckage. The second trooper, a rookie, stared and gaped. The third, Trooper Wilkensky, moved on to get rid of the onlookers and the fourth, Trooper Hamilton, stepped over to redirect the traffic.  
  
The first two troopers tiptoed around the wreck, each had a grimace on their face. Their shoes crunched over the broken glass. "...Oh... man," the first tropper with a small scar on his right cheek muttered, shaking his head.   
  
A second trooper hid behind the first trooper, his face turning a slight shade of green. "that's... foul!" the rook said, clapping one hand over this mouth quickly.   
  
Wilkensky and Hamilton were the seniors of Scarface and Rook. Wilkensky and the rook were partnered so the rook could learn a thing or two from the more experienced one. Wilkensky walked over to the rook and the one with the scarred cheek after threatening to bat the lookies with his hickory bat if they don't get a move on. Fortunately, they did. Wilkensky gave the two juniors a wide grin.   
  
"This the best part, boys! Grab them bags and clean up!" he said cheerfully, motioning towards the direction of the mangled bodies. The two froze. The time stretched. The silence stretched. Wilkensky's grin stretched. A sudden cackle of static from Hamilton's walkie talkie snapped them back.  
  
"Noo, I can't touch that-" the rookie choked out, turning away from the ghastly sight. "Like it or not, it's your job. Get a move on, fellas. Cooperation is a virtue!" Scarface hesitantly grabbed a pair of rubber gloves while the rookie stumbled over to a nearby bush and retched like a drunk.  
  
When he was done, he walked back, glared at the other pair of rubber gloves hatefully for a second, then grabbed it, and donned a pair of sunglasses, hoping it would make the sight less revolting.   
  
He ran back, bawling to the bush two minutes later, throwing up so hard that he had to hold on to the door of the RPD car for support. "Poor kid," Wilkensky muttered, and went back to threatening new onlookers.  
  
The rookie was Albert Wesker.

* * *

Trooper Wilkensky, Wesker's partner, was sitting on the passenger side, slurping iced coffee. Wesker sat behind the wheel, with a bored i-really-have-something-better-to-do look on his face. The police car was hidden in a deserted alley. Hoping to give free speeding tickets to those who deserve them. You don't get a lolly for being good, you get one for being bad. You get one for free.

Wesker himself hated getting, and also _giving _the speeding tickets. But a job's a job, or else it wouldn't be called a job.  
  
"Tell me again why I have to do this?" his voice droned. Wilkensky chuckled. "To make you a respectable man, Al! Think about it, just put up with all this shit for a while and you'll soon get your own bunch of groupies who'll worship the ground you walk on. It's a pretty good bargain, no?" Wesker nodded. "Yes, yes I know, but it's just... difficult!" he said, sighing. "Ah, nobody said being an officer's easy," Wilkensky replied.

"It's both mental and physical practice. All this is just a small step towards being a leader of the STARS. You're just learning all the basics. If you want to be the future fearless leader, you still have a lot of steps to take. Trust me, life will be way tougher when you're done with being a trooper. I'm not being too hard on you, but those in charge of training you in the future might be."

"But I'm a microbiologist, for Christ's sake! Don't expect me to make a good job of running after a prick who grabbed some posh lady's handbag or chasing a ten foot tall drunk who has been speeding and telling him to _ pull over, boy, you're under arrest_."   
  
Wilkensky gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, like it or not..."  
"Yes, yes I have no choice, yes yes it's my job and yes yes Umbrella's orders."  
Wilkensky shrugged, still smiling that annoying sympathetic smile. Wesker had folded his arms and glared at the steering wheel.   
"Oh, I think I saw something travelling at the speed of light go by," Wilkensky said casually, carefully placing the top of iced coffee back on.  
"And you're not making me chase it."  
"You have no choice, it's your 'job' and umbrella's orders. Now go get it, fido, before it disappears."  
"...I hate everyone..."

* * *

[after a while, the driver figured that he couldn't outrun the police and pulled up obediently]  
  
"... why don't you go out, Wilkensky," Wesker said hopefully. "I did all the chasing."  
"Naw get yer arse out there, boy, and look like a man!"  
Wesker cursed in reply, slipped on his lucky shades, then slowly made his way over to the other car.   
From behind, he heard Wilkensky yell _ Get a move on, boy! I'll make you chase after him again! _ and picked up stride. He bent over and couldn't catch a glimpse of the driver, as the window was tinted black as night.

_ Uh oh. _

He knocked on the window and watched as it rolled down slowly.

_ Uh oh again. _

Not 10 foot tall bad news, not unshaven nightmare, not drunken waste... but a young girl. Maybe just sixteen. but pretty. Wesker stared. Underage driving.   
"What's the problem, officer?" she asked sweetly, flipping back her blonde hair.  
"... let's see the driver's license."  
She continued to smile sweetly at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, this car ain't mine, it's my boyfriend's. I had to make a trip to the grocery store over there and pick up some things. My ma's sick in hospital and I wanna make a little something special to cheer her up. I wanted to get to the hospital before it rains so my boyfriend won't throw a fit."   
"How old's this guy?"  
"Huh?"  
"Your boyfriend. His age, please."  
"Oh, he's twenty."  
"Why isn't he the one doing the driving?"  
"Well, you see, he went to the loo, and there's this rusty latch dad had meant to change but kept forgetting to, and yeah, he got trapped in there."

This time, her smile faltered.

"Officer, I didn't steal this car! Greg told me I could drive it, honest!"   
"Where's your dad?"  
"I SWEAR I didn't steal his car, okay?! I didn't steal ANYONE'S car!"  
"Where's your father."  
"...at work."

Wesker stared at her over the top of his shades.

"Uh... then what business has your boyfriend got for being at your place?"

The sweet smile came back, beaming a little bit too brightly.

"Well, it's like this. He was sick of eating out everytime, see, and-"  
Wesker massaged his temples. The smile of the girl somehow blinded him. What's worse was her gosspiy voice. The voice of girls confiding secrets to each other.   
"- I asked him if he likes fried eggs and then he said-"

Wesker looked over his shoulder at Wilkensky. Wilks rolled his eyes at him and got out. The sound of the car door slamming didn't have any effect on the girl.

"Tomatoes!" she shrieked. "He wanted them with tomatoes, how funny is that, officer!" _ Giggle. Shriek. Giggle. Shriek. Guffaw._  
Wilkensky stepped up. "Miss, we would like you to follow u-"  
"THEN he asked me if I know how to wash the dishes! How _silly_, I mean, I cooked everything for him after all, and if I'm capable of cooking, how hard can washing the dishes be? So I told him, **duh**. And you know what he did NEXT?" she continued, laughing uncontrollably.   
"Oh, God, never mind what the heck he did. Don't you go speeding around anymore. I'm letting you off this time," Wesker said, chanting _aspirin aspirin aspirin aspirin_ mentally.

The girl gave him her best smile. It was like staring straight into a torchlight, with or without sunglasses.

"yes, I know you would. You're a good man! A very good man! Very good looking too! Love the shades!"  
"Yes, yes, thank you."  
Wesker stumbled back to the car, while Wilks stayed back and watched her pull away. He joined Wesker later.  
"Wilkensky, you drive. I think I've just survived a headshot."  
"Wesker, my man, this is just the beginning. So, what was her excuse for speeding?"  
"Something to do with her boyfriend being trapped inside the john."  
Wilks stared at him.

* * *

Okay, I know it's rather hard to imagine Wesker as someone inexperienced, but just try, for my sake . There will be a next chapter if anybody's pleased with this one. And did anybody notice that Wesker's gaining popularity in the RE section of fanfictionnet? Go evil villian!!! Sometimes the bad guys dress in black too, Will Smith. 


End file.
